Chapter 11
SEBASTIAN
What the fuck? What in the actual fuck was that woman thinking? How dare she do that to me?
I wasn’t going to force Clarissa to do something dangerous. Bernadette could have mentioned it calmly, though. She could have shown a little tact. But no. She had to make sure everyone knew just how stupid I was. She had to talk to me like a fucking child in front of the whole crew.
The craft services tent was set up about fifty yards from the main shooting area, a blessed oasis of shade and snacks. I ducked inside, grateful for the reprieve from the morning sun that was already making my hangover worse.
That was my fault. The cold beer and my solo musing had turned into six beers. And now I was the beneficiary of a hangover made worse by jet lag and stress.
Cookie was there, organizing boxes of granola bars and setting out fruit.
One table already had bottled green juices and lettuce wraps with turkey arranged neatly in rows.
The stocky woman was maybe sixty, with gray hair she kept in a practical braid and a no-nonsense energy that kept people in line without her ever having to say anything.
She’d been doing craft services for Blackwell shoots since before I started modeling. She could keep a crew fed and happy under any circumstances. I didn’t actually know her real name. Everyone just called her Cookie. And for the Miratoa shoot, this tent was Cookie’s kingdom.
“Sebastian,” she said without looking up from the bananas she was arranging. “Y’all just started and you’re taking a break already?”
“Something like that.” I grabbed a bag of trail mix from one of the bins, tore it open, and shoved a handful into my mouth.
The salt and sweet hit my system like a small miracle.
What I needed was a plate of hashbrowns, eggs, and a gallon of coffee.
It was a proven hangover cure. For now, I would have to settle for salty nuts.
“Trouble in paradise?” she asked as she stacked biodegradable napkins in a holder.
“You could say that.” I munched down another handful of trail mix. “The insurance company sent the world’s most annoying woman to torment us. She’s already throwing wrenches into everything.”
Cookie made a sympathetic noise. “Insurance people. They’re all the same. More worried about liability than letting you do your job.”
“Exactly!” I gestured with the trail mix bag, scattering a few pieces. “I had a great shot lined up, dramatic, beautiful, exactly what we need to launch this campaign. And she just ruined it. In front of everyone. Made me look like an idiot.”
Cookie glanced my way. “What did she do?”
“She told me putting Clarissa in that spot wasn’t safe.” I rolled my eyes and chewed my granola.
“Was it safe?”
I paused mid-chew. “That’s irrelevant.”
“Mm-hmm.” She went back to arranging fruit.
I finished the trail mix in a few more aggressive handfuls, tossed the empty bag in the trash, and grabbed another one for the road. “It’s going to be a long shoot,” I muttered.
“Sounds like it,” Cookie agreed. “But hey, at least the weather’s nice.”
I groaned. “Don’t jinx it, Cookie. You know better than that.”
She laughed and shooed me away. I left the tent, already opening trail mix number two, and pulled out my phone. My hands were still shaking slightly—from anger or adrenaline or the remnants of last night’s beer, I wasn’t sure.
I needed advice. I needed someone to tell me I wasn’t crazy, that Bernadette was being unreasonable, that I had every right to be pissed off.
I called Briggs. He wouldn’t sugar coat his opinion. The man was a straight shooter, almost to a fault.
He answered on the third ring. “Hey, how’s day one going?”
“I can’t work with this woman,” I said without preamble.
“The insurance rep. She’s a nightmare. She’s questioning every decision I make in front of the crew, bringing production to a complete halt, making me look incompetent.
Ruining the entire creative process. It’s going to end up being stale and boring, just like her! ”
“Sebastian, slow down. What happened?”
I paced away from the craft services tent and headed down to the beach, away from the shoot location. No one needed to hear my conversation. The crew had heard enough already.
I ran a hand over my face, feeling the rasp of stubble.
“I had my first shot set up. First shot of the whole shoot, mind you. Clarissa on a cliff edge, dramatic backdrop, perfect lighting. And Bernadette grabbed a stick and started pounding it into the ground to show the rock was unstable. Scared the model so badly she ran off crying. Now I have to completely redo the whole setup.”
“Was the rock unstable?”
“I mean, a little. But that’s not the point. Clarissa was just going to stand there. She wasn’t going to be dancing or jumping.”
“If the rock was unstable and you put someone on it, that would be bad. It sounds like Bernadette saved our butts.” He paused. “And Clarissa’s.”
“Fine, but Bernadette didn’t have to humiliate me in front of everyone. She could have pulled me aside, discussed it privately, and figured out a solution together. Instead, she made a big dramatic show of it and got kind of personal, if I’m being honest.”
There was a pause. I could practically hear Briggs choosing his words carefully. “Okay. So she has bad people skills. But, Sebastian, she might have just prevented a serious accident. On day one. That’s exactly what she’s there to do, man.”
“So what, I’m just supposed to let her veto everything I want to do?”
“You’re supposed to work with her, not against her. Listen to her concerns. Find compromises. That’s what leadership is.”
“Leadership is also being able to make creative decisions without someone constantly second-guessing you.”
“And liability is what happens when those creative decisions put people in danger.” He sighed. “Look, I’ll be there in a week with Adrian and Dash. We can help straighten things out then.”
“I don’t need you to straighten things out.” Defensiveness flared hot in my chest. “I can handle this on my own. I only called to get your opinion. I should have known you would take her side.”
“There’s one side,” Briggs said. “So work with her. Get it done, keep everyone safe, and prevent Blackwell Couture from incurring any legal or financial liability. And we’re all here as backup if you need it.”
“I don’t need backup. I need that insurance company to send someone who isn’t actively trying to sabotage me. Do we get a payout if the insurance rep is the reason nothing gets done?”
“No,” Briggs said flatly. “If we’re not abiding by the terms of the policy, they’ll just cancel it altogether. And Sebastian? We can’t go forward without insurance. If something happens and we’re not covered? That could bankrupt the company. Literally bankrupt us.”
The words hit like cold water. “Shit.”
“Yeah. So as annoying as she is, as much as she might be making your life difficult, you need her. More importantly, you need to work with her. Figure out how to communicate. Find a way to collaborate instead of fighting. Maybe get her on board with the shots you want instead of trying to bulldoze over her.”
“She’s the one fighting me!”
“Then be the bigger person. You want to prove you can run this production? Prove you can handle difficult personalities. Prove you can adapt when things don’t go your way.
” His voice softened slightly. “If you want easy, go back to being a model. Show up, look pretty, go home. But you want to run things? You’ve got to roll with the punches. ”
I stood there, phone pressed to my ear, watching the waves crash against the rocks. “When did you get so wise?”
“Law school.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “You’ve got this, Sebastian. Just try talking to her instead of declaring war.”
“No promises.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
He hung up, and I stood there for another minute, finishing the second bag of trail mix without really tasting it. Briggs was right. Of course he was right. He was always right, which was infuriating.
But I wasn’t ready to be the bigger person yet.
I walked back to the shoot location, where I could see the crew milling around, unsure what to do. Clarissa was still in the model tent, probably getting her makeup fixed. The photographers were checking their equipment. Everyone looked uncertain, waiting for direction.
My direction.
I spotted Bernadette standing off to the side, looking miserable and alone. Good.
I walked past her without making eye contact and headed straight for the model tent. “Clarissa? Can I talk to you for a second?”
She emerged with her makeup repaired and looking as beautiful as ever. “I don’t want to go near that cliff.”
“You don’t have to. I promise. You won’t be in any danger. We’re changing the shot completely. I just need you to trust me, okay?”
She sighed. “Okay.”
I turned to the crew, raising my voice so everyone could hear. “Alright, everyone! We’re changing the setup. I need all the lights and cameras moved to that clearing over there, under those trees. Different backdrop, different vibe, but it’ll be great.”
A collective groan rose from the lighting crew. Moving all that equipment was a pain in the ass.
“None of us like it,” I said loudly, making sure Bernadette could hear, “but God forbid we upset Ms. Simmons from the insurance company.”
I saw the crew members glance at Bernadette, their expressions shifting from uncertainty to irritation. A few gave her outright dirty looks. The stink eye, weaponized.
Good, I thought with petty satisfaction. Screw this lady. If she was going to make my life more difficult, I’d give it right back to her.
The crew started moving equipment, grumbling but compliant.
I led Clarissa to the new location. It was a beautiful spot under a canopy of tropical trees, with filtered light coming through the leaves.
The ocean was visible in the background but at a safe distance.
No cliffs. No unstable ground. It wasn’t quite the vision I had originally, but it was still gorgeous. It was soft and romantic. And safe.
No reason for Bernadette to object.
I looked up at the trees, checking the composition, and my eyes landed on the coconuts hanging in clusters above where Clarissa would be standing.
Falling coconuts are deadlier than sharks.
“Actually, let’s set up over here instead. Better angle.”
Whatever. I was being safe. That’s what everyone wanted, right?
If Bernadette came at me again with another one of her little sticks, I might toss her over the cliff. And that would be very bad.
The photographers started setting up their cameras in the new location. The lighting crew positioned their reflectors to work with the natural canopy. Wardrobe did a final check on Clarissa’s dress.
And finally we started shooting.
Clarissa was a professional. Despite the earlier drama, she found her angles, worked with the light, made the dress look incredible. The filtered sunlight through the leaves created this dreamy, romantic atmosphere that was actually better than the cliff would have been.
Not that I’d admit that to Bernadette.
I got lost in the work, calling out directions, checking shots with the photographers, making small adjustments to Clarissa’s positioning. This was what I was good at. I had been on the other side of the camera enough times and seen the product to know what looked good.
The morning progressed with no additional interruptions from our safety guru. I brought out Tempest and Portia for some group compositions.
I was doing my job. Proving I could handle this.
I noticed Bernadette on the perimeter. She was doing her best to stay out of the way. No one was talking to her. I didn’t think they were even giving her any attention at all.
Good.
She was the outsider. She didn’t know the first thing about modeling or photography. I needed her to sit her fine ass down and let the professionals handle the job.